Broken
by The Just King's Shadowhunter
Summary: After traumatizing events, Edmund has retreated into his mind. Can his siblings return him to himself, or will he be "asleep" forever? More explanation inside. Warnings: Violence and some minor language.
1. Chapter 1

**The first part of this, other than the first few paragraphs here, will be several flashbacks and memories from the view of Peter, Edmund, and the masters. The story will only progress a little other than that, as that's what it's focusing on for the first few chapters. This is to help explain what's happened to Edmund.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia.**

**Broken **

**Chapter 1**

Edmund's face was white against the blue of his bedclothes, his black eyebrows and lashes shocking streaks across his colorless face. Peter sat at his side, trying to bring life into the white skin by rubbing it with his hands. Nothing seemed to work, however, and he eventually was forced to admit defeat.

He looked to his brother's face, searching for any sign of life. Edmund's eyes were open, their dark color strong, but they were…lifeless. Blank. There was no expression there, nothing to tell Peter his brother was seeing him—which he doubted.

"Oh, Peter," Lucy whispered, pressing her tear-soaked handkerchief to her mouth. "What in Aslan's name happened?"

His eyes flitted briefly across her face before returning to Edmund's. "I'd prefer not to talk about it right now, Lucy."

"You must tell us eventually," Susan said. Her voice was sharper than Lucy's. "Whatever it is, it's clearly done great damage to Edmund's mental state. Please, Peter, what _is_ it?"

He merely repeated, " I'd rather not talk about it right now. I'll tell you sometime. I promise. But right now I need to take care of Edmund."

"Oh!" Lucy let out a little cry of frustration and buried her face into Edmund's chest, weeping. "It is so unfair of you, Peter!" she cried.

"I'm sorry," he said calmly, looking to Edmund. Even as Lucy cried, there was no change in the blank eyes, not even a flicker, much to his despair. Oh, Ed.

_*flashback*_

Torches lit the courtyard brilliantly. Edmund lay spread-eagled on his stomach, eyes tightly closed. He would not allow them to see his humiliation. He would not allow them to see his fear.

Peter bit his lip so hard it bled.

Their captors, their new masters, had arranged an audience of roughly thirty other captives—prostitutes, slaves—to watch this punishment.

They could not have any others becoming rebellious. It was bad enough that this Narnian barbarian had dared to try and escape with his older brother.

And now, to their pleasure, he was taking the punishment for them both.

The masters had assembled this audience of slaves because, done properly, tonight's punishment could benefit their work for years to come. They hoped that watching this would leave a powerful and lasting impression on any other slaves who might be feeling rebellious. This impression would come not only from the agony of his punishment, but from his humiliation beforehand.

He had been forced to remove his clothing and lie flat upon the ground while awaiting his restraints.

"Stay still, barbarian," a high-ranking house slave ordered, "or you will suffer far worse punishments than this."

The Narnian didn't even raise his head.

Kneeling beside him, the house slave tied ropes to Edmund's wrists and ankles. These ropes, pegged into the ground, kept his limbs both restrained from any movement and extended.

Glancing to the older brother, Erol noted the way he was biting his lip. Torchlight illuminated the blood on his face from the small wound.

Finally, Maajid arrived. With him, he carried a burlap sack at arm's length. This sack jumped and writhed with a life of its own, an angry yowling audible.

Shihib stepped forward, jaw set, eyes narrowed as he took in the other man. "What has taken you so long?"

Maajid looked at him, and with a hint of defiance, answered, "it took them long to get the cat prepared and into the sack. It is through no fault of my own."

Regarding the sack with delight, Erol took his time donning padded gauntlets before calling out, effectively silencing any chatter.

"You are here to witness the punishment of a disobedient servant," he said, voice dripping with disdain for those assembled. "This is what is to come—perhaps worse, far worse—if you choose to make the mistake he did. This slave attempted to run away from our _kindness _with his elder brother." Here he gestured to Peter. "The punishment tonight is to be—" he took the burlap sack from Maajid—"cat-hauling."

He heard gasps. The sound pleased him. Oh yes, this would go well.

Erol gestured to a female slave, Zahira, to pick up a bucket of heavily salted water. If the Northerner was resistant, uncooperative, he would pour this onto the wounds.

She scurried over, head down, and picked it up, setting it on the ground.

He planned to take his time with this. Slowly and deliberately was the way to do it—the impression would last longer this way, or so he hoped.

Passing the sack back to Maajid, he nodded to the man. "All right. Maajid—now open it."

The other man, looking quite nervous for once, opened the top of the sack. Before the cat inside had a chance to spring out, Erol plunged his gloved hand in, swallowing hard. It took him only moments to catch the cat by its rear legs and lift into the torchlight.

Erol held the squalling, screeching animal at arm's length for fear it would take his eye out, and approached Edmund. The slave met his eyes defiantly, completely expressionless otherwise.

He responded with a sneer. "I do hope this will hurt quite a bit, barbarian."

And then, stooping slightly, he swung the cat by its legs, straight toward Edmund's bared back. Sharp claws struck between Edmund's shoulders, cutting, ripping, and tearing all the way to the base of his spine. It was difficult, but Erol managed to jerk the cat up again. Looking at the bloody paws, he grinned.

Edmund had not cried out, but his face was contorted in pain and he'd nearly bitten through his lower lip.

"This is far from finished, young barbarian," he whispered, and swung again.

Blood spurted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The trees were a vibrant, lovely green and the sky a cool, crystal blue. Blue flowers dotted the lush grass of the meadow, and Edmund plucked one from the ground as he reclined on the ground.

He was still awe-struck by the unnatural beauty of this place, despite having been here for several days. This meadow was peaceful, quiet—everything the world he'd left behind was not.

Sometimes he did get the most terrible feeling that this place was not good.

He got the feeling that it was luring him in, that it was taking him in its hold, never to let him go, that he would be trapped here forever.

But when he got this feeling, he simply shrugged it off, leaving that worry for another time.

Now he let his gaze flicker to the edges of the clearing—the_ beyond_. Idly, he wondered what lay beyond here, in the trees, without any real intention of heading out to see.

To his shock, as soon as the thought had come, he was on his feet and propelled toward the trees.

_No!_

He resisted with all he could, but it seemed now that he'd had the passing thought, he was stuck with the consequences.

And with that, he was forced out of his meadow.

Everything was dark.

* * *

Edmund tried to open his eyes.

They didn't open, everything remained black, but he slowly became aware of sounds, of voices he did not recognize, footsteps, and even the sensation of someone holding his hand.

He also became aware of a distant pounding, a drumming, in his head.

"Edmund?" It was a female voice.

_No. _

"Oh, Peter!" cried the female voice, and he was suddenly sure it was Susan. "I think he's waking up! Come quickly! Oh, _Edmund_,do open your eyes."

He did not want to open his eyes.

He only wanted her to stop shouting. _Susan, quiet, please. Can't you see you're hurting my head?_

The pounding in his skull increased, taking on a steady, intense rhythm.

As it did, he found himself slipping back into a sweet, comfortable blackness, one that he welcomed. Anything, as long as he didn't have to face the world again.

Edmund opened his eyes and he was in the meadow.

At last.

* * *

His dark eyes glittered with defiance as he looked at Erol. His gaze flickered to the whip held in the other man's hand, but he found he did not care.

For Peter, he would take this.

Anything for Peter.

"You mean to tell me, young barbarian, that it was all you?" Erol's voice was calm, and his lips curved into a nasty smile.

"No. I mean to tell you that I wish to take the punishment for my brother and myself."

"Ah…not this time, I'm afraid."

"Excuse me?"

"You see," Erol said, his voice filled with laughter now, "your brother is guilty too. He also stole food, and so he will be punished."

Edmund's eyes flashed. He glared at his master, and shook off the calming hand Peter laid on his shoulder.

"You never had a problem with me taking the punishment for him until now!"

"True," agreed Erol, "but that, barbarian, is my decision, and mine alone. Which of you will be punished first?"

"I will, of course." Edmund barely kept his temper in check.

"Alright." His master smiled. "Your shirt, then."

Edmund's shirt fluttered to the ground.

"Face the wall."

He raised the whip as Edmund did so, and a second later, the whip swished through the air and connected with the bare skin of Edmund's back.

Peter gasped, feeling sick at the sight. "Ed, you should've let me go first—"

The whip lashed against Peter's face. Blood gushed from the new injury.

"Quiet, barbarian."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Edmund shivered in the cold darkness, despite the warmth of Peter beside him, his arms around him. They lay in the slave quarters around midnight. The air was frigid, even with the breath and body heat of the other slaves packed so closely together.

At the shiver, Peter tightened his grip on Edmund. Sighing, he spoke.

"Maybe I should give you my blanket for tonight, Ed, you're freezing."

"So you can freeze yourself? I think not, brother mine. Keep your blanket, if not for your happiness then for mine."

Peter sighed again but nodded, holding Edmund still tighter in both an attempt to comfort himself and provide warmth for his brother.

Edmund coughed wetly. "Pete?"

"Yes?"

"Do you…. Do you suppose we'll ever get out of here?" The words came in a rush. "Do you suppose Susan and Lucy think we're dead?"

Peter mulled over his answer to the question. It was apparent to him that the last thing Edmund needed was the truth, even if his brother didn't realize that himself.

"Yes, I do think we'll get out," he lied. "At the very least you will, Ed, I'll make sure of that. As for Susan and Lucy…" He considered again. "They may be under the impression that we're dead, but I also believe Oreius, at the very least, will look for us for a few more days. We've been here two weeks, he won't have stopped looking."

Silence fell over the two of them.

Then at last, Edmund spoke again.

"Do you…do you think they'll end up killing us?"

"The 'masters'?" It was a stupid question, but in the end, who cared?

"Yes, of course. Do you think they'll kill us?"

"I won't let them kill you, Edmund." There was no doubt in his tone.

"What about you?" His brother started to shake, suddenly seeming very young. "You won't let them get you, either?"

"No, no," he soothed. "Of course not, Ed."

"I don't want to lose you!"

"You won't." His voice was low, calming. "I would never leave you, Edmund. Why don't you get some sleep now? You're overexciting yourself."

Edmund nodded slowly against Peter's chest, and closed his eyes. Peter watched as his brother slowly fell asleep.

He didn't know how much longer he could keep up those lies.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Edmund bit his lip as he looked up at the gate—his escape route. The only way out of this hell, back to Cair Paravel.

It was impossibly tall. The part where it opened had a heavy chain locking it. Had his sword been in his possession, perhaps he could've broken it, but he didn't have it and he could see no other way to break the chain.

He'd just have to try and climb it then.

Grasping the slick bars, he braced his feet against it and began to scale the fence. He would go and get help for Peter, who absolutely refused to try and escape, who had forbidden Edmund to try as well. Of course Edmund paid no attention to this order.

He heard distant shouts—"what is that barbarian slave doing?" – "Ed!" – "Barbarian, get down at once!" – and tried to move faster, panic taking over.

His foot slipped once, causing a moment of terror, but he regained his hold and kept going—almost to the top….

Pain pierced his right shoulder.

Edmund groaned, left hand immediately going to the spot of agony. When he released his hold on the fence, his right hand didn't have the strength to hold him there and…. He fell.

The Just King's body crashed to the ground.

It felt as if every bone in his body was broken. His mouth moved, trying to form words as he struggled to make a sound. Then the air rushed into his lungs and he was screaming.

Erol's face loomed over his, a smirk twisting his features. He was saying something but Edmund couldn't even try to focus on the words.

Agony.

His chest was squeezing, squeezing, squeezing, he couldn't breathe.

He looked for Peter. Couldn't find his face.

Everything washed away, replaced by a solid sheet of black.

Peter knelt over his brother's unmoving body in the slave quarters later. He used a wet, dirty cloth to run it over Edmund's fever-flushed face.

"Why couldn't you listen to me?" he murmured softly. "I told you it wasn't a good idea, Ed, you ought to have known you would get caught."

He drew the cloth over the still face again.

"And now you're….you're…" He drew a breath and continued on. "The—the slave doctor doesn't think you'll wake up, Edmund. They're only giving you another day and then they're going to – well, they say they're going to put you out of your misery…like someone say about a _dog_, Edmund."

There was no response from the boy beside him. His eyelids didn't even flutter. He didn't twitch.

"And Ed, I know you're not ready to be moved—your shoulder is in awful condition—but I have to. It's nighttime now, they'll be in bed. You know that guard they post out here, he always falls asleep on duty. I'm going to get you out of here, Ed. I've seen griffins, and I'd bet if I can flag one down, they'll take us home. They have to be from Narnia, there's no native griffins here."

He pulled Edmund into a sitting position, careful with his injured shoulder.

"Perhaps Lucy or Susan sent them."

Gently, he pulled Edmund into his arms and stood with him.

"I'm getting you out of here tonight."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: The first part of this chapter is all from my imagination, but for the second part, I borrowed a bit of dialogue and a few phrases from Gone With the Wind Chapter words I borrowed belong to Margaret Mitchell.**

**Chapter 5**

"And that's what happened," Peter finished, eyes on Edmund's face. "I carried him out to the woods and walked until a griffin circling overhead found us." He looked to Susan. "Did you send the griffins?"

She shook her head.

"No, I didn't. Perhaps Oreius did."

"Well…in any case… he didn't wake up on the way back and…" Peter took a shaky breath in. "Well, obviously he still hasn't, and Susan, I'm scared to death for him. What if he doesn't wake up at all?"

"Oh, Peter, you know he will," she sighed, doing her best to conceal her own doubt, "he's strong. Edmund has always been a fighter."

He reached out to brush his fingers over Edmund's too-pale cheek.

"But it's been three days and he only woke up once. That was hardly even waking up."

She swallowed hard.

"He will. It's not like he's dying, Peter. This is just a defense mechanism." Her eyes hardened slightly. "Besides, Peter, you're not the only one that's worried for him. He's my brother too."

Peter looked at her in vague surprise. "Of course he is."

The rest of her words died on her tongue. She'd been expecting – she'd been _wanting _– a fight out of him. Susan didn't like this sad and tired version of her Magnificent brother.

"Why don't you go to bed?" she sighed. "I'll sit up with him."

"You think I'm going to leave him to sleep?"

"You should be resting…" she whispered, a sense of defeat already stealing over her. "You were hurt too."

"I can't leave him." Something like madness, something that terrified her, danced in his eyes.

"Peter—"

"No, Su, it's alright, honestly. I'll sit up with him and you go sleep, you've been in here as long as I have."

Susan felt defeat settle in her bones.

"I'm afraid, Susan."

It was mumbled quietly, barely audible.

Her blue eyes lifted to look at him.

"Afraid?" She was slightly confused. "Oh, but Peter, what are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid of life," he said, and words came tumbling from his mouth. "Susan, I've been able to shelter you, Edmund, Lucy, and myself from danger all my life. I've been able to protect all three of you. I've carefully selected the few safe people I can – Oreius, the Beavers, Tumnus, Aslan – for us all. But this – being High King – has taught me that I had created a safe little bubble for us, I haven't let you all learn how to defend yourselves. We've only existed as shadows. I'm afraid I'll never learn to let you all go."

He lifted his head to look at her, and the madness was diminished, barely there.

"When I was there, with the slaves, I thought, 'when this is over, I can go back to Cair Paravel. I can protect my people and Edmund and the girls.' But Su, now I can't, and I've been ruining everything my whole life."

She hadn't wanted to interrupt, but now she did.

"How have you ruined everything?"

"I've clung to you three all your lives. Now Edmund is – he might – you know…and I can't let go of him. I can't help you and Lucy because I'm holding onto him so hard."

"But Peter," she floundered, "you should have – you should have told me all this before. We'll mange to save him. I know we will."

For a moment, his blue eyes came back up to her own, wide and crystal blue. There was a certain admiration in them. Then, suddenly, the light went out and they were remote again.

"I'm afraid of facing life without him beside me."

Susan sighed. She thought despairingly that Edmund would know exactly what he meant. Edmund always understood him, he always understood everyone. Now she couldn't help Peter without him. He was not fearing what she did. He was shrinking before some fear that she had never known and would never know.

"I…"

"Forgive me, sister darling, for talking so. I can't make you understand…you couldn't understand because you've never… I've always been so close to him and so overprotective."

Anger flashed in her stomach briefly before disappearing, replaced once more with that cold, cruel defeat.

"Listen to me, please," she began. "I'm tired of it all, too, Peter, and I'm just as afraid as you are. But I will not listen to you talk this way."

He looked surprised.

"Gentle Queen though I may be, I am trying to be strong for Edmund and you cannot sit and wallow in self-pity. The Narnians need you and I—I—"

The dam broke. She couldn't do it.

She couldn't be strong anymore.

Susan was not used to carrying everyone else's troubles on her pack, and at the moment, she was running the entire country while Peter worried over Edmund. She couldn't_ do_ it anymore.

Her eyes lowered to stare at the ground.

"Susan?" He sounded concerned. He got to his feet. "Su?"

"Oh, Peter, I'm sorry."

His hand rested on her shoulder.

"Why?"

"I shouldn't have shouted at you when I- I'm just as weak as you are right now and I was shouting at you for it. I'm sorry, Peter."

Peter crouched beside her chair.

"Easy…what happened to being strong?"

"I can't."

As she looked at him, understanding came into his eyes. She could've cried with relief. Her Peter, protective older brother Peter, was back.

He leaned toward her, and for a moment, she thought he would take her in his arms. She wanted him to, so badly. Peter's strong arms could make all the hurt in the world go away.

But instead, he patted her hand and spoke comfortingly.

"I know you're sick and tired. That's why you're talking this way. You've carried the load of three or four men. But Susan, I'm going to help you now. I've been terribly selfish, haven't I?"

Yes, he had, but she couldn't bring herself to care now.

Her eyes met his again, hers naked with hopelessness and pleading, his bleak and far away.

Heartbreak and weariness sweeping over her, Susan dropped her head again and cried.

Peter had hardly ever seen his sister cry.

Quickly, guilt and remorse coming over him, he took her in his arms, rocking her like a child, her dark head against his chest. "Oh, Susan… you've been so brave, don't cry now."

She struggled with a chaos of thoughts and cold pain in her chest.

But eventually, her tears went away and she straightened in his arms.

"I'm sorry again, Peter," she said dully, "for breaking apart when you needed me. I will try to never let it happen again. I will—I will go rest now, as you asked. Please wake me if there's any change in Edmund."

She stood and started toward the door, fixing the pins holding her hair up as she went. Peter watched her go as he returned to Edmund's side, and saw her square her small shoulders as she went. And that little gesture went to his heart, more than any words she had spoken to him that afternoon.

[A/N] *sheepish look* This chapter spiraled in some strange directions. I didn't expect it to go this way, but it did, and I gotta say, I kind of liked it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

For a long while, there was nothing.

It was Edmund's sense of hearing that came back first. With it came the feeling of something cold and wet brushing over his face.

"Nngh," he groaned, lifting a heavy, numb hand to bat at it feebly.

"Peter, _Peter_, come quickly, he's waking up!"

The voice was familiar. He found himself trying to place it even as he battled against waking, trying to go back into the black nothing. Edmund didn't _want_ to wake up.

More sounds came.

Footsteps.

"Oh, Peter, isn't it positively wonderful?" The voice was filled with happiness. "He's waking up! Edmund, do open your eyes, Peter is here."

_Lucy._

Yes, Lucy was the owner of the voice.

"Ed?" This one was male, and cautiously hopeful. Immediately, he could place this one.

"Pet…er."

A muffled sob caused a frown to come. Who was crying?

"Oh, Ed. I thought you would—I thought you would never wake."

Oh.

Why, Peter was crying.

And then Edmund was crying with him, hot tears trickling down his cheeks even as his eyes refused to open. The darkness persisted.

Cool and calloused hands wiped gently at the tears.

"Sh… Everything is okay. Alright, Edmund, can you open your eyes for me?"

A quick shake of his head.

"Can you at least try, sweetheart?" A new voice came. It was feminine. Lucy had already spoken to him, so it must be Susan.

"Mmm…"

The nothingness called to him, beckoned. It touched his face with cold fingertips, and that coolness was so inviting, what with the burning behind his eyes and the too-hot tears.

"Please, Ed." It was Peter again.

He grunted in annoyance.

Couldn't they just leave him alone?

Edmund's eyes opened against his will then as he lost his ability to keep them closed. He gasped as light invaded his vision, throwing his arm over his eyes.

"The curtains," Peter snapped at someone. "Close them, can't you see the light is hurting him? Quickly."

"Pet'r… don't shout at them," Edmund mumbled.

"Alright, Ed." Peter's voice was softer as darkness fell over the room. Finally, Edmund could look around. He just barely made out his brother's form in the darkness, and his sisters standing a few feet away.

"And…and Peter? I'm thirsty."

Maybe he wasn't all that thirsty, but he was certainly glad he'd said that when Peter's face lit up.

"You think you can keep something down?"

"I do."

"Great." Peter grinned, looking thrilled to death. He darted out of the room and down the corridor.

"He's been feeling very useless as of late," Susan murmured, moving to Edmund's side. She stroked the hair out of his eyes. "He's been so afraid that you were going to die."

Edmund frowned to hear this news.

"Has he been hurting terribly?"

"Oh, yes. I do hope you can stay awake for just a little while, Edmund, if only to give him some reassurance."

He doubted he could, but…

"I'll try."

For Peter's sake, if nothing else, he would have to try.

Peter couldn't suffer.


	7. Chapter 7

[A/N] Here you have it, final chapter. Sorry it took so long.

Warning, pretty cheesy ending.

**Chapter 7**

"Come on, Ed, one step at a time." Peter's voice was soft , his hands gentle on his brother's shoulders. "You can do it."

"I don't know about that," Edmund muttered, taking a rocking, unsteady step in the direction of the door.

"They need to see you're okay, darling," Susan said, waiting for him there. "Your people are worried about you. They've seen Peter alive and well, and now they need to see the same thing from you. Won't you do that for them?"

Edmund merely scowled at her, but he wasn't truly annoyed and Susan knew it, judging by her smile.

"You know I will, Su."

Taking the final step, he lurched forward and nearly fell into Susan's arms, held up only by Peter's strong grasp.

"There you go," the older boy said, smiling, "you did it."

"Oh yes, Pete," Edmund scoffed, "I made it to the door. Now I just have to go down the corridor, down two flights of stairs and through another corridor…." Here he trailed off, hoping Peter would get the point. He wasn't feeling up to his optimism today.

"You think it will be terribly difficult, Ed?"

"Obviously." Edmund huffed at him. Maybe he could've been a little nicer, but –

"_Hey!" _

The yelp caught the attention of two guards passing by, and they whirled to help, only to stop and exchange amused glances as Peter swept past them, little brother tossed over his shoulder and a serene smile on his face.

"Put me down, Peter!" Edmund struck at his back with flailing hands. "This is humiliating."

He laughed. "I'm only making it easier for you, Eddie."

Susan hurried to catch up with them, giggling at Edmund's predicament. He was glad to see her smile for once, happier than he likely would've admitted.

"Alright, just this once," he conceded, only because there was no way to get down and because Susan's happiness_ almost_ made it worth the embarrassment. Almost.

Peter snorted. Reaching their destination, he set Edmund down and walked through the door, gaining his most haughty and kingly look as he did so.

Edmund shared an amused look with his sister and offered her his arm, which she gladly took. And then they both stepped through the door to greet and reassure their people.


End file.
